


Legacy

by TaleWorthTelling



Category: Captain America (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-18
Updated: 2015-08-18
Packaged: 2018-04-15 11:15:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4604637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaleWorthTelling/pseuds/TaleWorthTelling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>James is very conscious of Captain America's legacy and of his role in it. Sometimes it surprises him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Legacy

It's not that he spends a lot of time looking at pictures of himself or really contemplating his legacy -- honestly, he's much more concerned with the practical side of what he's doing, the day to day of it. The good that he can do for real, living people. The mythos was always Steve's cross to bear; Bucky could shrug it off when he chose. But once again, it's become hard to ignore the heavy weight of the boots he's stepped into, the wobbles and missteps where he doesn't quite fill them out the same. And now ...

Sometimes he stumbles for other reasons. Sometimes it's just the shock.

He likes to peruse the art on the street. Sometimes he'll buy a piece if the artist's style really resonates with him. He doesn't know art like Steve had, but sometimes it soothes him to look at, and sometimes he thinks that Steve would have liked this or that about it. He's always happy to support good things in the world. There's plenty of superhero-themed work out there -- hell, there's plenty of graffiti in that vein, some of it pretty good -- and Cap's a particular favorite for obvious reasons. The man took a good picture. The sheer material out there to work with is overwhelming -- propaganda way back when, stills from the photographers tagging along throughout the war, candid shots that sometimes came close to capturing the Steve that James knew. Sincere smile, kind eyes, stern brow, fierce battle snarl, didn't matter: all shades of Cap, all documented as the history they were.

Sometimes James itches when he thinks about his part in a lot of those pictures. How different he was, how that's the image of him preserved for all time: a boy in a domino mask with a ways to go to catch up to Steve's larger than life bulk. Nothing like Steve, really. He's a kid or he's a ghoul from the shadows. There is no in-between.

He doesn't mean to stop and stare at the drawing for a solid three minutes, but eventually he shakes loose from the dysphoria and realizes what an idiot he looks like. There's a second where he hesitates, but then he digs his wallet out of his pocket and buys the silly thing. He wraps it in thick brown paper and sets it aside until Natalia gets back from her latest mission.

It sits there for a week and a half before he unthinkingly sweeps a stack off of the table and Natalia shoves him down onto it, leaning over him to greet him. Before she does, though, she stops, frowning.

James frowns, too. 

She ducks down for a moment and returns with the drawing pinched between her fingers, one eyebrow quirked and lips pulled to the side.

He strokes a hand down her side and shrugs. "I thought you might like it."

Her mouth cracks into a full smile. "I do." She carefully sets it down out of the way, where it won't be damaged -- but not, he notes curiously, out of her line of view -- and kisses him.

Later, laying with each other on the couch sharing an afghan and body heat, she takes it into her hands with gentle fingers and looks at it closely.

The back of James's neck burns. "It's dumb."

"I like it," she says, burrowing farther down into the crook of his arm until her hair tickles his chest, "and it's mine, so I'm going to look at it."

So he looks, too, and tries to see it with her eyes, and a frisson of pride blooms through him in a way that's equal parts familiar and painful.

Steve took a good picture, but in battle he was fury in motion. Terrifying, too, if you were on the wrong side. Not as many people saw that side, but there are war photographs that escaped the government's classified files, and the fierce snarl or determined expression mid-battle, leading troops or lunging in for a strike, is awe-inspiring, and so it's been immortalized, too. But James worked from the sidelines -- at least as far as the public is concerned, not wanting the gritty, bloody details -- or in the background. No one rushes to immortalize a teenager slitting throats in the dark or an assassin perched on a rooftop with a rifle.

He's seen a lot of Cap art in his travels throughout the city, but it's always been of Steve, battle-ready and brave.

He's never seen himself that way. But clearly someone has, because that's not Steve. There he is, uniform distinct, not a kid and not a murderer, stern-jawed and straight-backed and shield in hand, ready to protect. Ready to save. Classic Steve pose, but somehow all James.

She kisses the underside of his jaw. "I'm putting it on the fridge."

He groans. But he smiles, too.


End file.
